


Sensuous: adj, Of Or Relating To The Senses

by AkiRah



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, because i do - Freeform, kilik swarms as accidental spy cams, okay but does anyone else think about how the swarm processes sensory information?, some voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkiRah/pseuds/AkiRah
Summary: Lying in his quarters at night, Vector considers Cipher Nine and his attraction to her. The swarm attempts to help by digging into memories.





	

Vector remembers Anora, but he remembers her the way he recalls his childhood, distant, grey, muted. The memories the colony sorts through for him are more real, more vivid. Perhaps it is because of how Kiliks remember and experience things. Perhaps it is because the more minds recalling an event the more real it becomes until you can touch and taste it. Perhaps it doesn’t matter.

He had been very much in love with her. 

They were to be wed. 

She was very much disgusted with who--what--he was these days. 

Perhaps that is her right. 

He thinks about Cipher, and realizes that he doesn’t even know her real name. He recalls the chill of her skin and the blazing red of her eyes. The small twitch of her mouth that gives away bemusement even when she exasperatedly berates Kaliyo. Her eyes fix on his, her teeth scrape over her lower lip. He has seen her twist people's desire in her favor, fake an attraction so deep the mark thinks it must be love. But those men and women do not scent pheromones the way he does. They don't listen for the quickening of her heartbeat. A hundred voices don’t sing to them, analyzing her at her most unguarded. 

There’s no profit to seducing him. Nothing she could take from him and give to the Empire. The fingerlings watch, and would watch whether Vector wanted them to or not, and he’s asked them not to spy on her. Manners, respect, privacy. Still, slip-ups happen and through ears not his own he hears her breath his name while she masturbates. Through noses not his own he smells lust and arousal. Through eyes not his own he catches her biting her lip as he leaves a room, the dilation of her pupils. He feels the heat rise off her cold Chiss skin while they talk over caff, her hand on the table, a mere twitch from reaching for him. 

He had thought that he wanted her because the Hive was preparing for expansion, but the longer he spends with her, the longer he is bound by the realization that his desire is very much his own, very human. He wonders if it’s because of the distance from Alderaan. He wonders if it’s a _good_ thing. He wonders if he should _say_ something. It's possible, though he supposes _unlikely_ , that he's misread the situation.

Vector lies on his bed, listening to the singing in his head and in his veins. The song of The Universe echoes, sweet and poignant. He closes his eyes and listens, one hand hovering over the button on his pants. 

Cipher’s skin is icy.

* * *

_We remember Jordan Temple._  
Lying on his stomach as his husband runs an ice cube down his spine.  
The skin tightens and pimples, more sensitive to touch.  
He shudders, gasps, delights. 

* * *

Vector’s cock stiffens, the feeling transferring through the collective to meld with the image of Cipher’s finger tracing the line of his back. Her smile pressing to his shoulder as he shivers. Her lips parting, tongue flicking out and teeth nipping his prickled skin. He pulls his hand away from the button and stretches it out above his head, taking a deep breath and biting down on his lower lip. It has been some time since he’s masturbated, it’s not an action the Killik have any use for. If he’s going to, he’ll take his time, stretch it out, and enjoy it. 

* * *

_We remember Myers’zosi’olo._  
Fingers tightening in the thick cobalt hair of his mistress, her skin warmed with arousal, mouth hot around his erection.  
Small strokes of her tongue teasing the tender flesh and her nails digging into his thighs to keep him still. 

* * *

Vector groans, a sharp, lusty sound. He stretches out as his synapses play havoc with his nerves. His breath catches, the phantom sensations almost unbearably pleasant, imagining the slide of Cipher’s wet hair curling around his fingers. He pictures her on her knees, breasts bare, looking up at him from around his erection, the smile warm and teasing. He can almost feel her breath and it makes his knees weak and his breath quicken. A phantom of wet heat engulfs his tip and he gasps for air. 

* * *

_We remember Latao._  
She grins up from between the legs of her girlfriend and licks her lips in anticipation before pressing a kiss to Vutra’s clitoris.  
Her arms tighten as Vutra tenses and moans with delight.  
She traces circles, then the patterns of letters.  
Vutra’s sex is salty-sweet, dripping onto Latao’s tongue. 

* * *

Vector relents, the pressure built to burst. He undoes his fly and takes himself in hand. With one hand he strokes while the other clutches the sheets. His chest is tight, burning as pleasure coils and drips through him. He bites the inside of his cheek to muffle his cries, more out of a sense of manners than of modesty. He can taste cum on his tongue and he imagines it’s Cipher’s. He can hear cries in his ears and attributes them to Cipher. He can smell sweat and sex and Cipher Nine’s shampoo. He can feel hands on his shoulders and in his hair, a tongue along his cock and he wishes they were real. He sees stars behind his eyelids. 

* * *

_We consider Cipher Nine._  
Her lips move silently in the fresher, forming the syllables, **Vector**.  
One hand caresses her breast, thumb flicking her nipple beneath the spray.  
The other hand parts her labia in self-stimulation.  
She groans, a deep, guttural sound, “Ktah!” and rocks against her hand.  
She shudders and orgasms then rinses her hand beneath the water.  
“If only,” she mutters, the words almost echo in the stall.


End file.
